


When to Say 'Yes'

by Worldlyshuku



Series: Mostly canon compliant Destiel [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Related, Coda, Compliant through at least s11e18, Gen, M/M, POV Third Person, Post-Episode: s11e10 The Devil in the Details, Season/Series 11, Slow Build, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000, mostly canon compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-05-16 12:35:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5829184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Worldlyshuku/pseuds/Worldlyshuku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoilers for season 11 episode 10 "The Devil in the Details".</p><p>Castiel had said 'yes' to the Devil, now it's time for someone to say 'yes' to him.<br/>Not really a fix-it fic, but a thought that keeps going through my head that I'd love to see happen.  Destiel if you squint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started this before episode 11 of season 11 came out. So spoilers for sure of anything that came before that. As I've written, and new episodes have aired, I've added in little bits but some new canon revelations won't fit in with what I've already posted. While it mostly fits with canon at least through episode 17, I've taken into consideration some aspects of episode 18 "Hell's Angel", and this story starts some time after ep 19 then. Ep 20 and/or 21 will probably throw everything I've written out of the window, so once we get to that point, you can ignore them for my story until I say otherwise.

* * *

Dean and Sam know that the Devil is amongst them. And he's using their friend as a meat suit. They chased signs of him all over the US, even considered hitting a few overseas, but signs had popped up in the US time-and-time again, until finally, they got the drop on him. Maybe just long enough to get some answers out of him.

But Lucifer is only answering them in riddles and half-truths. How? Why? When? But Dean is done playing his games; Cas may have said 'yes', but he's still in there, and if they don't do something, Lucifer would likely get him killed or burn him out himself.

“Give him back!” Dean shouts at the archangel with the visage of his dear friend. The brothers both are gripping angel blades, knowing they'd be next to useless in a fight with Lucifer.

One of Castiel's, no Lucifer's (Jimmy's? - hell if Dean could keep track) brows raises, and he shakes his head. “Sorry, Dean boy, I just can't do that. My little brother in here thinks he's some used up and expendable tool, but, you see, he's invaluable in keeping the Winchesters in check. As long as he's with me, you boys won't touch me.”

Dean grits his teeth, nose scrunching in his growing hatred for Lucifer. He's always hated Lucifer, but this – this is a new low. “You only need the vessel. Leave Cas out of this.”

“I've already told you why I can't do that,” Lucifer says with a shrug. “My patience is wearing thin, and I have things I need to do.”

“Cas!” Sam shouts. “This isn't your burden to bear. I'm sorry I said 'no', but you know that I can't let the Devil in. He's bad news, Cas!”

Lucifer rolls his eyes with such an air of sass that it reminds them again that they're not talking to Castiel. “Castiel knows what it'll take to defeat the Darkness, and I'm the answer to your prayers.”

Dean drops his eyes. He can't stand looking at Cas like this. It just isn't right. “We'll find another way,” Dean barks, “we always do.”

“And how many more people will die in the process?”

“Pot. Kettle. Nice to meet you,” Deans snaps back, “How many are going to continue to suffer by your hands before you deal with Amara?” he practically hisses. “You got your ride out. Don't drag Cas through that with you.”

Lucifer tucks his hands into pockets of the pants that Castiel had chosen to wear after he reclaimed his grace. “Sam won't let me in, and I like it here. You do realize that your pleas aren't working, that Castiel still hasn't kicked me out. It's his vessel now without that _human_ in the way, so it's his choice. It is _an_ angel's true vessel, so it should hold for quite some time even with a seraph and an archangel in here.” He pauses with a purse to his lips. “All those suffering 'people'... mostly Amara's doing. The two of us make a pretty good team, but we always seem to barely miss her. And as long as I leave you two alone, I still get to run the show.” He narrows his eyes. “But, please, try my patience some more. See if I don't maim either of you before I get the boot.”

Dean swallows around the lump in his throat. The Devil would keep his word on that. He'd be done for, and although he probably wouldn't kill Sam as his own true vessel, he'd beaten him to a pulp before. “Take the meat suit,” Dean says, his hands shaking, but his voice clear, “just give me the angel.”

“Oh?”

Dean knows it's a risks he's going to have to take. “If you can hear me, Cas, then I'm saying 'yes'.”

Lucifer claps with Castiel's hands and gives a throaty laugh. “Ha! What good will that do? Well, it was nice chatting, boys, but I have a big baddie to take care of.” He waves with his fingers and says, “Tootles.” before the sound of rustling fabric signals his leave.

“Dammit!” Dean groans, pitching his angel blade to the floor with a loud clank.

Sam watches Dean, taking in a deep breath before exclaiming, “That was your plan, Dean?!”

“No!”

“So what was it then?”

“I panicked,” Dean admits, “It was the first thing I could think of.”

“Wait.” Sam shakes his head, disbelieving. “You told me you had a plan. You _lied_ to me?”

Dean waves his arms wildly as if the gesture will defend him. “Yeah! I lied! It's Cas, man. Whether I have a plan for the Devil or not, if I've got the chance to corner him, I'm going to take it. I'm taking it every time. One day, we'll get through to Cas, and he'll kick Lucifer to the curb. Until then we-”

He is stopped short by the rumbling of the walls around them. The brothers stand their ground, Dean bending down to retrieve the angel blade. The shaking intensifies, cracking a window pane until it finally shatters into pieces. They cover their ears to a high-pitched wailing, and there's light flooding every window and doorway from the outside. Sam drops to his knees, still clutching his ears, but when he looks up, Dean's eyes are closed, and his hands are dropped down to his sides.

Sam can hear his whispered “ _Yes_ ” before everything is still again, only the light fading to a blue glow in the air that finds its way to Dean. Sam has to shield his eyes from the sudden onslaught of light and heat emanating from his brother standing near him.

Dean blinks hard, taking in a shuddering breath, and starts patting himself down. “Hey, you with me, buddy?” he asks out loud.

“ _Of course.”_   The voice Dean hears is all around him, close and distant all at once, but despite the disembodied voice, it's unmistakably the deep timber he'd come to know from Castiel.

“Woah,” Dean says, snorting a small laugh, “that's going to take some getting used to. Glad to have you back though.”

Sam stands up, the light and heat gone, and stares at Dean as if he's trying to look past him, “You... got him?”

“Yep.” Dean smiles. He looks off to the side and up, saying, “Don't get too cozy in there. We'll get your body back in no time, Cas.”

Sam continues to look at Dean, at his brother shaking his head and laughing. Clearly, he's only hearing one side of the conversation, but the joy on his brother's face tells him that it's all good.

As they're leaving, Dean warns Cas, “I've got some ground rules to lay out for inhabiting my body. We'll cover those on the way home.”

“ _Home.”_

* * *

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Screw it. Got some inspiration, so I wrote up a little bit more. :D

* * *

“Cas!” Dean shouts, startling his brother in the seat next to him, “Will you just chill out in there? Christ, man, I'm trying to drive here.”

“ _I apologize, Dean.”_ The heat and stirring sensation buzzing under his chest begins to fade. _“I noticed some fatty deposits on your liver and was taking care of them.”_

Dean briefly glances down at chest before returning his eyes to the road. “What the hell, Cas? Rule number one. No playing doctor unless I ask you to or I'm dying. Seriously, no poking around in there. Capiche?”

“What was he doing?” Sam asks.

“ _Yes.”_ There's a brief pause before the disembodied voice continues. _“You said you would go over the ground rules for inhabiting your body. Would you like to do that now?”_

Dean huffs, realizing that besides having to get used to the strange voice in-his-head-but-not-really-in-his-head, he's also going to have to deal with holding multiple conversations at once. Sam explained earlier that he can't hear Castiel, so Dean would have to 'translate' as needed. Before Dean's mind can wander too far and Castiel may-or-may-not be able to pick up on his thoughts -

“ _I can't make out the exact words, but I do get the sense that you are concerned that I can read your mind.”_

His hands clench tightly on the wheel as he takes in a deep breath. Instead of immediately addressing that issue with Castiel, Dean tells his brother, “Cas says my liver is fat.”

“ _Fatty deposits, Dean.”_

“Like, enlarged?” Sam raises his brows before they scrunch up in worry. “You might want to go to the doctor for that. Or maybe lay off of the alcohol for a bit until you can see one.”

“I'm fine, Sam,” Dean barks. “And I'm being corrected. Fatty _deposits_. Whatever. So I consume a bit more alcohol than is healthy... I'll live with it.”

Sam suddenly smirks. “But you're eating for two now, Dean, and you'll-”

Despite driving, Dean punches his brother in the shoulder. “You shut your face.” Hands firmly back on the wheel, he shakes his head. “Come on. This is serious, Sam. Lucifer is traipsing around in Cas's vessel. God only knows what he's doing without Cas there to keep him in check. And we've got a wingless angel hunkered down here that can't even properly recover his dwindling mojo with all the crap he's had to go through.”

“ _I am reco-”_

“I'm talking to Sam right now, Cas,” Dean sharply cuts off the angel's voice. Barely a few hours as a vessel, and he's beginning to regret this decision. It's just... too complicated.

“Calm down, Dean.” Sam rolls his eyes and settles back into his seat. Dean _almost_ misses the smirk forming on his face. “You act like you've never had another man inside you.”

Dean blanches and sputters over Sam's rather obvious sexual innuendo, flicking on his tape deck to curb anymore talk with his brother. He wants to make a retort back, but he realizes with a twinge of guilt that Sam does have some right to crack jokes at his expense – the other Winchester has had his fair share of supernatural beings running amok inside of him. And all of them in less ideal situations.

At least this time it's Castiel – someone that they can trust, someone that just wants to do the right thing, someone that's had their backs, someone that's... family.

“ _Since you are no longer speaking with Sam, I wanted to tell you that I am recovering just fine.”_

Dean breathes a sigh of relief.

“ _You don't need to worry about me, Dean. This will give me more than adequate time to return to full power – or, at least, what constitutes as full power for me now. I'm afraid after having my grace removed, I haven't quite gotten the chance to get back to it yet. I miss my wings. The human method of transportation is too time consuming.”_

Speaking out loud to Castiel relays the words the best, but Dean doesn't want to have an exchange that becomes slightly awkward because Sam can only hear one side of the conversation. He remembers what Sam had told him, Castiel's reason for telling Lucifer 'yes' – that he had wanted to be of service in the fight against Amara, as if he wasn't enough.

Instead of speaking, he thinks it as hard as he can, pouring every emotion tied to the words, “I don't need your wings. I just need you, Cas. It's all I've ever needed.” He considers all the times that Cas had been there to help pull him back from his own dark places.

The warmth that blossoms in his chest is sudden, and he has to shut his eyes and suck in a breath from the intensity of it, but he knows that Cas understood him. With a smile tugging on his lips, Dean realizes that maybe he has a fighting chance against the Darkness after all.

* * *

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

“Uh... Sam?” Dean stares out the front window of the Impala at the giant garage door in front of them.

“Yeah, Dean?” Sam acknowledges him from the back seat that he had been sprawled out on barely a half-hour ago.

Dean points at the bunker's garage. “I, uh... I can't go in there.”

Sam raises a brow and starts, “What do you mean you can't – oh.” He nods at his brother looking expectantly at him. “Right. Angel warding. I'll take care of that.” He crawls out of the car and disappears through a side door into the bunker.

“ _The wards you put in place are very good. They were effective enough to keep Lucifer out.”_

Dean cringes. “Lucifer came to the Bunker?”

“ _Yes. He was unable to gain access though.”_

“Crap,” Dean says, realizing what a mistake removing the warding now might mean, “do you think Lucifer will try again? We can't ward against angels anymore unless I stay somewhere else. Maybe?”

“ _This is your home, Dean. You shouldn't stay away because of me. I'm certain we can come up with something to keep you and Sam safe from Lucifer. At the very least, I can be there to protect you.”_

“Thanks, buddy.” Dean smiles, throwing an arm over the back of the seat cushion while he waits for Sam. “You know, we were warding against Lucifer, but it sucked that it meant keeping you out as well.”

“ _It meant keeping you both of out Lucifer's reach. You shouldn't feel guilty about that.”_

Dean frowns and rubs his hand over his thigh. “I feel guilty about a lot of things, Cas.” _You,_ the thought comes unbidden.

“ _We do what we must to protect the ones we love._ _Much of the guilt is mutually shared._ _”_

He huffs a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well, that list grows smaller everyday. Not much family left to look out for.”

It's quiet in the car for some time. Dean's lost in thought about Amara, and he knows Castiel is picking up on his anxiety. He's briefly worried that Sam is taking too long, but there were a lot of sigils – Sam might be working through all of them rather than just the ones that would get them inside of the bunker.

“ _You're worried about the hold Amara has over you.”_

“Yeah,” Dean says quietly.

“ _I'd wish you had told me about it sooner.”_

Dean snorts before Castiel continues. “Yeah, then it might have been _you_ I was talking to. Would you really want to use me as bait for her?”

“ _Lucifer... wasn't wrong in his logic. At one time, I would have used it to our advantage. But now, I'd do anything to help you get rid of it or at least try to resist it. Have you been able to, at all?”_

“Yeah, sort of. I don't really know. It's...” Dean clenches his jaw, drawing up the memory of the last time he had been face-to-face with Amara, alone and at her mercy. He never wants to feel that helpless to control himself again. He hates being out of control. He hates...

“ _You're not alone in this anymore, Dean.”_

Dean's almost startled when his phone chimes, and he pulls it out of his pocket to see a message from Sam: <Good to go. I'm going to hit the shower.>

“Well, here goes nothing,” Dean says, stepping out of the car to pull open the garage door. He pokes his head through the large threshold; so far, so good. He gets back into the Impala, starts her up, and drives her into their home.

“ _You still have the Continental.”_

“Hm?” Dean's half-way out of the car when he realizes what Castiel had said and turns his head to look over at the beige vehicle that Castiel had claimed as his own after his stint as a human. “Well, yeah. Not like Lucifer needed it.” He locks up his own baby and heads for the stairs. “Had some time to kill, so I gave it a tune-up. Looks like it hadn't been done in awhile.”

“ _I can't heal cars.”_

Dean laughs, pausing with his hand on the stair rail. “You need a mechanic's touch for that. Just bring it to me every few months. I can give it the attention it needs.”

“ _Thank you, Dean.”_

“No prob, Cas. Hey, I can show you some general things about auto maintenance tomorrow, if you want,” Dean offers, passing through a hallway that leads to the kitchen. “Checking the oil and filters. Start with the basics.”

“ _If I don't regain use of my wings, knowledge of rudimentary vehicle repairs should prove useful. It was not long ago that I didn't even realize how much gas they required to run.”_

The latter comment makes Dean chuckle, but he worries if Castiel will ever get his wings back.

Passing by the bathroom door slows him down as he remembers a rule that he hadn't yet brought up to the angel now inhabiting his body. The walls are thick enough that he barely hears the running water of Sam's shower as a faint pattering on the tiled floor. “Another rule Cas, so listen up. When I pass through this door, tune everything out. What I do in that room is not for you to share. Can you do that for me?”

“ _You don't need to be embarrassed by your bodily functions, but I understand a human's need for privacy under the circumstances. I, too, had to urinate and defecate at irregular intervals, and I swore I would never get used to it.”_

“Uh, ew. Oversharing, Cas.”

“ _If I were at full power, I could sustain you without the need for sustenance or sleep. It would also keep you from needing to -”_

“Ah, got the picture,” Dean interrupts. “But you know, I kind of like food, so I'll accept the consequences.”

“ _Currently, you could skip a meal and lose a few hours of sleep without feeling affected.”_

“Good to know.” Dean continues on, a beer waiting in the fridge with his name on it after a long drive. Lucifer had been just close enough this time that they hadn't needed to stop at a motel for some shut-eye. At least, Dean hadn't needed it, but he realizes that Sam had. The giant had passed out in the backseat before they could make it back to the Bunker. Castiel was affecting his energy without him even realizing it. “So, you don't have to be in full control of my body for that?”

“ _If you relinquish control, then you would have no need to eat. I would still require some rest though.”_

“How are you feeling, Cas?” Dean earnestly asks, knowing the angel will give him a placating response as is usual for a member of the Winchester clan.

“ _I'm fine, Dean.”_

“Didn't think you could lie to your vessel,” Dean jokes. “Not some code you're breaking?”

He can finally hear a slight puff of a laugh. _“While you are not my true vessel, it is... far more comfortable here than it was with Lucifer._ _I'm looking forward to getting to spend time with you. My brother was very..._ _difficult._ _”_

“That's the understatement of the century. Don't expect conversation 'round-the-clock though,” he jests, “Gotta get some beauty sleep in.”

“ _I'm sorry that it will be difficult for you to have your personal space now. I can accommodate for my intrusion when you need some time alone.”_

“I'll, uh. I'll live, buddy.” He steps down into the kitchen finally, pulling open the fridge when he reaches it. “If you, you know, need to stretch your wings or something... just don't do anything crazy.” If it's for Cas... Dean just might be able to give up control.

“ _Of course.”_

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything you readers would like to see with Cas "possessing" Dean?  
> If I get far enough and canon doesn't completely blow up in my face, I'd like to eventually get them together in this fic... so slow build, maybe some burn.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some spoilers for s11e18 "Hell's Angel" in this one. I'll try to apply new episodes when I can! But it means some of the earlier chapters might not quite match with canon...

* * *

Dean sits in one of his favorite spots, relaxing in his green fold-out sports chair on a small dock at the lake. He's not sure how long he's been there, but the rising Sun has given the morning a lovely and soft orange hue that calms him. There's no fish in the bucket – there's actually no bucket either – but Dean doesn’t mind that he hasn't yet gotten a bite on the fishing pole nestled in his hands.

He closes his eyes to bask in the crisp morning breeze.

“Hello, Dean.” The voice isn't in his head.

His eyes snap open, and he's jumping up out of his seat. His hand is already grasping an angel blade he hadn't realized was there.

Castiel stands before him, the chair a blockade between them. He's in his usual suit with blue striped tie and newer tan trench coat. The appearance of his friend loosens the grip around the blade's hilt for only a moment. Dean's body stays rigid and in a guarded stance, wanting to warn whoever was here that he was willing to fight.

“It's me,” the angel says, “I'm Castiel.”

“Cas?” The yearning in his own voice nearly startles Dean. He can't get his hopes up. This can't be Cas. But suddenly, he can see the small nuances that make up Castiel. The slight hunch of his shoulders, the weariness and sincerity in his eyes, the subtle tilt of his head. Things that Lucifer had only been playing at, things that Dean had subconsciously noticed, but couldn't put a finger on what had been off. There had been the strange change of attitude – and disregard for the cleanliness of the Bunker – but Dean had written it off as quickly as Sam had reminded him that something always seemed a bit off with Cas.

“How?” is all that Dean can think to say aloud. The last time he remembered, Castiel had been using him as a vessel before he fell asleep, but here he is. Castiel is himself, no struggle with the Devil evident as he stands there.

Castiel gives him a small smile. “You're dreaming.”

“Dreaming?” Dean realizes that the chair is no longer between them; no poofing needed, it just vanished from one second to the next. “Crap,” he says, and the seemingly hours of rising Sun makes sense. His dream had kept the same time of the day for his comfort and enjoyment. Which means that Castiel hasn't gotten himself back into his own vessel. “Are you... real?” Dean asks.

“You're not imagining me, Dean,” Castiel answers, gaze never wavering from Dean “While you're sleeping, I have no where else to go. Once you fell into a deep enough state to dream, I was sent here.”

The angel blade is gone, too, and Dean's standing far closer to Castiel than he had been when the angel had first appeared. “How long have you been standing here?”

“You've barely been asleep for a few minutes, but you have perceived it to be much longer.” Castiel's eyes soften as he looks out over the water's glistening edge. “Angels don't dream. It's something that even I have a hard time comprehending despite getting to experience it while I was graceless and human. I'm surprised that your dream hasn't yet jumped us to a different location. My own never made much sense, and I woke up before I could ever reach any sort of conclusion.”

“Yeah,” Dean says dumbly. Apparently, he's down to one-word sentences in his dreams. He blinks and reaches out to Castiel, grips his fingers around tan fabric. “Can you feel this, Cas?”

Castiel looks down at Dean's hands on his chest, and his focus slowly pans back up to Dean's eyes. “Not physically. I can sense the proximity of your contact though. The feeling is probably similar to what you yourself are feeling.”

Dean throws his arms around Castiel's shoulders, catching the angel unaware in a hug. He dips his chin and pulls Castiel close and tight. “Whatever this is,” he says, “it's great to finally see _you_ again.”

Castiel curls his arms up and under Dean's to his back, returning the firm embrace. So much tension is already draining from his body as he steps back away from Dean. “It feels good to be myself again. Lucifer had me locked up in my own head, and it was difficult to tell what was reality and what wasn't. Some of your prayers made it through, and I'm sorry I didn't come to you sooner.”

“We tried to get you to expel Lucifer once,” Dean admits, eyes hardening. “Do you remember?”

“Vaguely.” Castiel's gaze falters, and he has to turn away. “Lucifer fought with Crowley. I was not in a good place at the time, more concerned that they were going to break something than the fact that they were fighting. In my head nonetheless. I'm sorry that I couldn't help.”

Dean will ask for the details later, but for now, he's content to have his friend with him. He smiles. “Glad to have you home, regardless. In one piece would have been better though.”

“I am wholly here,” Castiel disagrees. “What stayed behind with Lucifer is just my vessel.”

“But it's _your_ vessel. Jimmy vacated the premises years ago, and it's a part of you,” Dean argues back calmly but sternly.

Castiel runs his palms over the front of his coat. “I am fond of this form. I've been though a lot with it. Traveled between Heaven, Hell, Earth, and Purgatory. Experienced so much.”

Dean is quiet, watches Castiel consider the history of his Jimmy “suit”. The angel changes then, dark hair disheveled, the creases around his eyes softening, the coat longer, and the tie darker. This is the Castiel he met so many years ago. He can hardly count the time that's gone by – eight years? Did Purgatory or his stint in Hell make it even longer than that? Dean doesn't admit out loud that he's grown fond of the meat suit as well. It's the only Castiel he's ever known – the brief moment in Claire Novak barely registers to Dean – as he's never had the chance to see his true form. _Can't_ see his true form; he's not sure that he wants to.

Castiel's lips quirk to the side in a bit of amusement. “I miss this coat. I knew when I bought a new one that it wasn't quite the same.”

Dean realizes that he's looking at the _old_ Castiel – before Purgatory, before Leviathans, back when they were trying to fight Michael and Lucifer's Apocalypse. It's strange seeing the more human quirks in the old Castiel. The almost robotic and militant movements replaced with a more natural and relaxed pose. They're in a dream; Castiel can look however he wants. Dean's suddenly wearing the worn leather jacket that was once his father's. He takes in a deep breath to soak in the familiar scent.

“Your sunset is beautiful,” Castiel says, his eyes drawn to the row of trees outlining the lake on the other side.

“Hmm?” Dean's too lost in nostalgia to take in what Castiel said until he turns around to see the Sun is casting the lake in a darkening orange glow as it slowly descends behind the trees. He'd be worried about the sudden change of day if Castiel hadn't already explained that this was a dream. It's where his jacket and the change in Castiel had come from.

Dean's sitting back into a new fold-out chair – a comfortable two-seater complete with a back and drink holders in the armrests. He bends down to pluck two bottles of beer from a blue and white cooler. One is placed in the holder next to him on his left, and he holds the other out to Castiel who's still standing behind the chair. Castiel takes it from him and wordlessly sits down to Dean's right. They quietly watch Dean's imaginary Sun settle behind the trees as they take sips of the beers and Dean wads some bright neon green bait into a ball around his fishing hook. By the time night starts to fall, already the Sun is beginning to brighten his dream – probably behind them somewhere; Dean's not certain.

“Ever been fishing before?” Deans asks Castiel while holding the fishing pole back and flicking it forward to let the clear line fly out across the water.

Castiel shakes his head, gazing back at Dean. “I have watched men fish for thousands of years. Watched the evolution of man as predators to catch a meal. Fishing is just a hobby for you now, right?” His head tilts curiously. “Do you eat anything you catch?”

Dean shrugs, wondering for a moment if Castiel was asking about humans as a whole or just himself. He tentatively answers, “I tend to throw most of it back, but yeah, I've turned a few into dinner.” Dean grimaces as he winds the line back just a little to tighten the slack. “The process is a bit too messy for me, so Sam usually did the prepping, and I cooked.”

Castiel nods. “Skills like that would have been useful when I was hungry and running from the angels.”

Dean frowns. Ignoring the fact that the angel would have had to find a body of water with fish in it and one that he could legally fish in – or avoid getting caught – and get a pole to catch them, his concern lies elsewhere. Castiel keeps bringing up that time that he was human. That time when Dean had kicked him out of the Bunker because he thought that he was keeping Sam safe. Dean can't feel like more of an asshole for not letting his friend stay, for not teaching him the ways of humans, for not feeding and clothing him. He knows at the very least, he should have set him up with some fake credit cards and ID, cash, and maybe a place to go, but it's hindsight now. Dean doesn't want to bring up his follies of that time. One day, he'll forgive himself as Castiel has.

“Want to learn?” Dean asks, pointing out a new pole propped up on Castiel's side of the seat.

Castiel nods. “It sounds like a good way to pass the time.”

* * *

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made up some stuff about an angel's grace, especially since it's not really clear what Castiel is or isn't capable of at any given moment.

* * *

Castiel opens his eyes – Dean's eyes. He briefly stretches as he untucks himself from the bed's blankets. He takes in a deep breath through his vessel's nose. The clock reads 5:48 in the morning, almost four hours since Dean had gone to bed late last night.

Dean had taught him how to fish. The dream made the conditions perfect, so Castiel had picked up on the skill quickly and easily. While an actual fishing line would snap with the weight and force of one, it was quite the experience to reel in a whale. Ignoring the fact that a whale wouldn't be in a lake, Dean was nonetheless impressed.

And then Castiel had left Dean to his dream. With the hunter's blessing, the angel took control and stirred from their shared dream. Now Castiel was rubbing sleep from Dean's eyes while padding down the hall with soft slippers and an equally soft robe.

Sam is in the kitchen, wearing a pair of jogging shorts and a gray tank top complete with a sweat band around his head and sneakers on his feet. “Whoa,” he greets Castiel, “you're up early on a day off.”

 _Ah._ Sam apparently thinks he's talking to Dean. Castiel considers giving his impression of Dean a try, but the Winchesters have had their recent fill of deception, and he wants to play no more part in it. Instead, he shakes his head at Sam as he sits down. “Dean is still sleeping.”

Sam pauses his grab for a water bottle from the fridge and chuckles. “I didn't think Dean's voice could get any lower.” He takes the water bottle and sits at the table across from Castiel. “Hey, Cas. How's life with Dean treating you?”

“Far more pleasantly than life with my brother,” Castiel answers.

The room is quiet for too long, and Sam purses his lips before asking, “So, got any plans this morning?”

Castiel shrugs, resting his elbows on the table and dropping his chin to his curled fingers. “I thought I might go through the Bunker's library for an hour or so before Dean woke up. I could also catch up on episodes of Game of Thrones.”

“Care to join me in a jog?” Sam offers.

“Would Dean's body be up for that?” Castiel asks seriously in response.

Sam snorts a laugh. “He's not completely out-of-shape. I thought that wouldn't matter with you at the helm. Either way, a jog won't kill him. We can keep the pace easy. Maybe only do forty-five minutes instead of an hour-and-a-half.”

Castiel looks down at Dean's boxers, t-shirt, robe, and slippers combo. “I guess I would need to change.”

Sam barely blinks, and Castiel is already dressed in a similar outfit as his own, but in a shade of dark green. The sweat band is neon green though, and Sam pulls out his phone from his pocket. “I have got to get a picture. Dean won't believe this.”

Once outside, Sam leads them in a few stretches, commenting how strange it is to see Dean's body willingly contorting into the various poses without griping the whole time. And after a good ten minutes of warming their muscles – Sam's sure that Castiel doesn't require the stretching, but he's not the expert on angel physiology – they're off on their first trip around the bunker.

The first few minutes are quiet, just the gentle puffs of exertion reminding each of them that someone is jogging beside them. Sam's so used to doing this alone, and it's stranger still to see his brother-but-not-his-brother going along with it. He wonders why he'd never thought to ask Castiel to join him before.

He catches the attention of the angel residing in his brother's body and points at the fence along the plot of land unclaimed near the bunker. “The next part I do as a sprint to the light post,” Sam tells Castiel as he slows his jog. “You up for it?”

Castiel regards him with a squint of his eyes that is so unlike Dean that it gives Sam pause. Suddenly, Castiel takes off, and Sam yells that he didn't tell him to go yet. Instead of taking off after him, he watches his brother's form running, chest puffed out and arms a bit uncontrolled at his sides. Dean can run, and he's not entirely graceful about it, but watching Castiel run... Sam snorts in amusement, and quickly uses his long and muscled legs to catch up with his friend.

Castiel shouts in surprise and tries to grab for Sam as he passes him. Sam doesn't stop until he reaches the light pole and only slows down to a quick walk. He keeps that pace while Castiel catches back up, his breathing labored almost as much as Sam's is.

“Gettin' tired there, Cas?” Sam asks, gently mocking.

Castiel straightens and takes in a deep breath through his nose. “Just underestimating my grace. Seems it can't spare the energy to let me run more freely.”

“How is your grace holding up?” Sam rubs his sleeve over his jaw to deal with the sweat tickling along his skin. “Is there anything we can do to help you restore it more... fully? Quickly?”

“I'm truly fine, Sam. You don't need to worry about me.” Castiel follows Sam along the wooden fence-line, managing to keep pace with Sam's long-legged gait. “Short of a spell with massive power and its consequential fallout to consider, there's not much you, as humans, can do to help. There's the possibility of stealing another angel's grace to boost my own, but the effect is temporary, and it does not fare well for the other angel.”

“So, just let you rest then?”

Castiel nods. “Time is my best and most viable option. Dean is more than capable of supporting my grace.”

“What about going to Heaven?” Sam considers. “Any chance to juice up your batteries at the source?”

“Although the angels have found a way back to Heaven after Metatron's spell, the connection with the Host has been shaky.” Castiel's eyes glance to the sky above. “I'm not certain that I'd even be welcome. My last call to my brothers and sister didn't go so well. And after bringing Lucifer to Heaven...”

Sam nods, quiet, but understanding. After a moment, he tells him, “I'm, uh, I'm sorry that I didn't try to get you out sooner.” Their pace has slowed considerably, barely a brisk walk as Sam turns them around to follow the fence back towards the bunker.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Sam,” Castiel tells him simply, his eyes forward.

Sam shakes his head. “I didn't realize how far gone you were. Dean was always pushing to save you, but I figured that you had allowed Lucifer in for a reason. That it's what you wanted.” He tries to take in a calming breath, but it's still more shaky than he'd like. “I messed up by contacting Lucifer, and you paid the price for it.”

“You're right,” Castiel agrees, continuing quickly when Sam turns his head to him in surprise, “I chose to allow Lucifer to use my vessel. I should have known how he would have taken advantage of the situation though. I'm sorry that I put you and Dean through that.”

Sam starts to jog as they reach the end of the fence headed towards the bunker. Castiel stretches his legs to stay beside him. “I'm sorry, too, Cas,” Sam stresses again, “And we're both here for you. Whatever you need.”

“I think I need to stop,” Castiel admits, the blur of Dean's dream starting to fade. “Your brother is waking up.”

“Perfect timing then.” Sam jogs in place when they reach the bunker entrance. “Maybe do a few stretches to cool off. I'd like to continue, if you don't mind.”

Castiel does as suggested, stretching out his arms and legs after the slight exhaustion he'd felt from the sprint probably meant that Dean would feel the ache of jogging despite his grace. Perhaps he needs more rest than he thought. He can tell that Dean is no longer dreaming, but the man is still lingering in a blissful unawareness. He'll likely wake up at any moment, and Dean will probably want to have full control of his body when he does.

Castiel goes to the kitchen first anyway, setting up some coffee. He eyes a bottle of water and decides to take one for himself. While he doesn't need the sustenance, it won't hurt anything. The bottle is nearly half-empty by the time he reaches Dean's room, and he has to admit that he feels a little better after quenching a thirst he didn't realize he had.

He glances down at the foot of the bed where the clothes he had removed earlier are sitting. His wings are damaged, but at least he can do small things like send some clothes into the other room while he fashions a new pair from... even he doesn't know where these ones had come from – seems his abilities have some limits. The angel snaps his fingers, replacing the sweaty jogging attire with Dean's boxers and t-shirt; he still has the ability to keep himself clean, so it's not something he concerns himself over as he sets the slippers on the floor and then hangs the robe back up in the closet.

As he sits down on the bed, he can feel Dean stirring, his consciousness not yet aware of its position. But he falls back quickly, not wishing to alarm the waking man. Dean slumps forward suddenly and blinks his eyes open in surprise. He shoots wary glances about the room and balances himself with his hands on the bed at his sides. A sigh of relief is released when the angel greets him.

“ _Good morning, Dean.”_

* * *

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I do plan to add more as inspiration arises. We'll see what angst and drama the next episodes bring. XD


End file.
